Chapter Text
Amid the howls of the cutting sea winds of Fontaine echoing against the damp windows of the ship, Kaveh let out a long sigh in his cabin, washed in a faint, flickering light that illuminated his form at the peak of exhaustion. Rolling his aching wrists as he set down his quill and closed the inkwell, he stared at the countless calluses throbbing along the joints of his slender fingers, his eyes heavy with sleep. It was already the dead of night, and only a few hours remained before he would arrive in Sumeru after twelve years in Fontaine. It felt as though it had been just yesterday that he had received a job offer outside his homeland, one that demanded sacrifices such as painful farewells and separations. In truth, it had not been as bad as he had imagined, considering everything he had gone through.
Nilou’s reaction had been exactly as he expected. Knowing that she was caught up in her arduous routine as a dancer, standing firm as an artist within the nobility even without her father’s direct approval, Kaveh knew she had little room to voice her opinion, especially since he had accepted the proposal on impulse. She merely maintained her warm smile, the same one Kaveh admitted he had fallen for when he was younger, and offered a brief “Good luck. You’ll get through this.”
With his best friend Tighnari, it was no different. He understood immediately, encouraging Kaveh to follow his own path as a way of starting over, arguing that it would be for the best given all the debts his mother had left behind after moving to Fontaine without warning. In truth, Kaveh did not blame her; unlike him, she had found the courage to give up her title of duchess shortly after her husband, the last Duke of Sumeru, passed away. It was through her absence that Kaveh witnessed throughout his adolescence just how oppressive noble society could be. How cruel it became once one’s title and rights were stripped away: the relentless gossip, the false rumors, and the rigid upbringing he was forced to follow as the duke’s only son, a role he could not afford to ignore.
Even so, with great effort, Kaveh managed to adapt despite the stark discrepancy between Sumerian and Fontainean culture. By the age of thirty-four, he had become an indisputably prestigious architect, yet his talent went largely unrecognized now that he no longer held the title of duke. Just another small, ordinary artist living off a handful of commissions.
Kaveh slipped out of the handmade robe his mother had given him, his body beginning to feel overheated, and sat down on the padded, meticulously arranged bed in his cabin. He stared blankly at his desk, cluttered with papers, letters, scrolls, and sketches of unfinished projects from his few clients in Fontaine.
Now that he was on his way back to Sumeru, he constantly wondered how he would face Alhaitham.
Of course, even after moving to another nation in an attempt to forget his tortuous past, Kaveh had kept in touch with all his friends, except Alhaitham, his former junior, no longer his friend — and his last love. Part of him soothed himself by saying he could not blame him after their final argument, the one that shattered everything they had built over the years. Another part, however, questioned the other’s pride, wondering whether Alhaitham had truly never been willing to forgive him after all this time.
Kaveh pushed those relentless thoughts aside. He preferred not to nurture any kind of hope, choosing instead to face the reality that it had all been his fault, his impulsive decisions, just as Alhaitham had pointed out back then.
Slowly, he began to remove his shoes, his eyelids already heavy. With a groan of relief, Kaveh allowed himself to rest against the pillows that had tempted him for so long during his endless hours working at the desk, settling his spine between them. No matter how tired he was, his mind raced with every wave the ship cut through the ocean. The white ceiling above him blurred and distorted as his weakened vision trembled in defiance of the heavy sleep, proof that his mind still wanted him awake. That was when Kaveh noticed it amid his small inner turmoil: a vague figure rising in his thoughts. Along with it came a pair of deep petroleum-blue irises, a unique diamond shape of vivid citrus orange shimmering within the pupils. Full lips took shape, trembling before pressing into a thin line, as did a dimple barely perceptible amid the chaos of that painfully familiar face.
“Senior.”
A trembling voice called to him like a breeze, ephemeral and gentle at the nape of his neck, and Kaveh quickly turned in that direction, catching a glimpse. A silhouette. Specifically, the last image Kaveh had of his junior, just as his junior had of his senior. He stood several meters away, too far, too unreachable, just as he had been on the day Kaveh left. Unlike the ornate attire of a noble, Alhaitham wore simple, dark clothing, his expression somber as his presence tried to blend into the chaotic crowd at the Port Ormos pier. Kaveh’s eyes, so often empty, burned with the same painful sting as before, while all he could leave behind for his junior, watching him grow distant as the ship began to sail, was the pitiful image of a failure drowning in guilt he alone had chosen to bear… as his final memory.
Before that sunlit late-afternoon scene that had haunted him for decades, Kaveh dared to seize the moment, extending his hand toward him in a futile attempt. His feet would not leave the wooden deck, yet he still hoped Alhaitham might hear the words of forgiveness he had rehearsed and repeated so many times. That he might recover the brilliant project they had worked on together for months, the one Kaveh himself had shredded in an immature outburst at the height of their argument. To gather up every fragment of the friendship he himself had destroyed.
Deep down, Kaveh wished he had not turned his back before climbing the ship’s stairs. He wished he had at least offered a brief wave instead of drawing back his trembling hands, or even a short farewell smile. He wished he had found the courage to write a letter, but every time, quill dripping ink, the paper before him remained blank. Alhaitham never heard what he had so much to say, and even now, upon his return, Kaveh still did not feel ready.
The young Alhaitham, seeing Kaveh slowly drifting away, turned aside with his head bowed, his expression unchanged. When the older man realized his junior was beginning to be swallowed by the crowded masses, Kaveh leaned over the ship’s railing once more, stretching out his arm as his long-sealed lips parted.
But the words never left his tongue, his voice utterly silent. He opened his mouth again, forcing his throat into a scream he hoped would be loud enough to cut through all the noise of the port and make Alhaitham look back at him. Just this once.
At the moment his vocal cords began to ache, instead of his voice, a loud, shrill bell rang out, jolting Kaveh awake as he gasped with a startled cry.
“Last stop! Port Ormos!” a muffled voice shouted, not far from Kaveh’s cabin.
When Kaveh opened his eyes and sat up, breathless, the first thing he noticed through the window was the sunrise and the calm sea. Stretching between the pillows, he retrieved his silver pocket watch from beneath them, snapping it open with a click. It was 6:12, and he had already arrived at his long-dreaded destination. In a flash, Kaveh rose from the bed, quickly washed his face, and took care of his hygiene in the bathroom, choosing to skip breakfast. He was far too nervous to feel hungry, certain that if he ate anything at that moment, he would throw it up.
He tidied the desk, shoving papers, pens, his collection of quills, scale rulers, and compasses into his suitcase.
“Last stop! Port Ormos!” the voice repeated, closer now.
“Damn it…” Kaveh muttered, unable to find the other shoe.
Soft knocks sounded at his door as Kaveh knelt, pulling the missing shoe into his grasp.
“Excuse me, mister… Kaveh?”
“Yes?”
“Room service, sir. I came to make sure you’re ready.”
“Ah… just a moment!” he replied, hissing softly as pain flared in his palms.
His calluses were swollen and red, making everything he touched hurt. Still, he had not had time to buy ointment, having had to board the ship back to Sumeru in a hurry.
In the end, Kaveh managed to leave his cabin calmly half an hour before the scheduled checkout time. He returned the key to the staff, somewhat awkward as he carried so many heavy bags by himself, grumbling over the foolish decision to bring so many belongings. Soon, he finally reached the deck, among many citizens of Fontaine and even Liyue. The scorching sun and humid spring air bathed all of Sumeru, and Kaveh could not have felt more content. Far from the snobbish gazes of the noble society that once looked down on him, this was the greatest meeting point of all, where people of every class crossed paths. Families reuniting, warm embraces between lovers, travelers in search of purpose. Unlike the Port of Lumidouce, where many workers scarcely helped newcomers with their luggage, Sumeru overflowed with hospitality. Kaveh’s thoughts were confirmed when a tall young man approached with quick steps. With a courteous smile, he bent slightly and, asking permission, took a few of Kaveh’s bags.
“Good morning, sir! Allow me to help you with these-” His voice faltered as the luggage left Kaveh’s tired hands and their weight fully hit him, his smile wavering. Half-bent, he straightened again. “-these bags!”
Kaveh smiled shyly, walking beside him toward the ship’s exit.
“Thank you very much, young man.”
The boy blinked, looking away as his cheeks flushed pink.
As he descended the gangway of the docked ship, Kaveh noticed several buildings that had still been under construction when he left. For instance, the Shapur Hotel, which he had heard so much about even while in Fontaine; the Djafar Tavern, which he had actually visited before, though it seemed to have undergone an interior renovation, he decided to check it out after settling back into the city. And finally, the Pharos Lighthouse, for whose renovation he himself had been primarily responsible, proudly unchanged since its owner passed away. Letting out a deep sigh with a small, sideways smile, a shy little cough made Kaveh barely notice that he had already reached the ground, so lost was he in his thoughts.
“Sir…”
“A-ah, sorry, young man. I got distracted by the architecture here. It’s a bit different from what I remember.” Kaveh laughed nervously, seeing the boy sweat but still respect his moment of reverie. "I promise to pay double as soon as I find a… carriage. Do we have carriages here…?"
Kaveh blushed slightly as he asked, afraid of sounding rude and like one of those pretentious people from Fontaine. The young man sighed, more a huff of exhaustion than of indulgence.
"…Yes."
"Great! Then let’s wait-"
"Kaveh?"
Kaveh’s body stiffened, his nails digging into the already battered flesh of his palms.
"Is that really you?"
Kaveh exchanged wide-eyed looks with the young man, who stared back at him in confusion. The voice calling his name came from behind his neck, very far away and almost muffled by the chaos that was Port Ormos. And yet, it was loud and clear, so vivid it felt almost tangible. Inside, Kaveh roared for himself to turn around and face whoever was there, but his feet refused to move. His knees began to tremble.
“I think he’s calling you, sir.” the young man accompanying him whispered, the blonde beginning to sweat slightly. Kaveh smiled in gratitude for the warning, already aware that yes, he was the one being called.
With courage painfully forced, and realizing the situation was becoming unbearably awkward, Kaveh turned around, putting on the greatest display of indifference he could manage. Many people were still wenting down the stairs, conversations and originless shouts spreading around him. It was only when the flow of people thinned that he saw him.
A tall, striking man stood in stark contrast to everyone passing by. He was frozen in place a few meters away, his hands seeming to hesitate outside his body as he held a cane. He wore elegant, long garments despite the height of Spring season, tailoring worthy of a noble. Kaveh bit his lip hard, unable to tear his eyes away from that gentle gaze he had longed to see again for years. The silver hair was the same, but time had etched itself into every line of his expression, emphasizing just how mature Alhaitham had become over the years. It couldn’t be a coincidence, him appearing there on the very day of Kaveh’s arrival, with such restrained features and a piercing expression wrapped in an ambition Kaveh couldn’t quite name.
He’s going to kill Tighnari the moment he sees him.
Confirming that it was truly him, his dear, and now grown, junior lifted his cane from the ground and began to approach in long, hurried strides, weaving around newly arrived passengers and the constant back-and-forth of the crowd. Kaveh couldn’t bring himself to move, stagnated in place as though his body were waiting for what was about to come, now that he too had confirmed it was the one person he most expected to meet, and at the same time never wanted to see. As he tortured himself trying to find words he might say if Alhaitham reached him, the latter grew visibly impatient, huffing when forced to stop because of a massive load being unloaded slowly from a ship. Seizing that moment, Kaveh in a burst of courage — or perhaps the impulse of cowardice — turned his head to the young man beside him, who looked moments away from bursting.
“I’ll triple your payment if you can take me somewhere farther from here, please.”
Without a word — perhaps unable to find one — the young man nodded and began clearing a path for the blond to follow.
“Stop.”
Yes, even though Kaveh and Alhaitham had completely severed their ties, it didn’t mean Kaveh lacked awareness of who Alhaitham had become and all his achievements. He had known him for a long time, since childhood, but Kaveh didn’t feel ready to face everything he was now: a disciplined, reserved duke, a proper gentleman, and a scribe who had won the heart of the city. Tighnari had always sent him news about Alhaitham, insisting the two of them reconcile once and for all. After Kaveh ignored his pleas for so long, he stopped pushing, limiting himself to updates about his daily life and his relationship with Cyno, and then, at the end of the letters, a photo, a piece of gossip, or a newspaper clipping about what the greatest duke of Sumeru had been up to.
In short, Alhaitham was a noble gentleman, titled and highly renowned. And, in a way, one of the most coveted bachelors of every season, known for his cold demeanor and a rather sharp tongue thanks to his blunt honesty.
“Wait here.” Alhaitham asked, sounding distressed as he grabbed Kaveh’s wrist like a desperate man, releasing it immediately after receiving a scorching glare directed at his hand. “Please.”
As stunned as Kaveh was by the younger man’s behavior, so at odds with all the speculation and slander surrounding an enigmatic, discourteous duke, his heart couldn’t help but flutter at the gentleness of his touch. As bleak as that reunion was, Kaveh was moved by how careful Alhaitham seemed to be trying to be.
The duke reached into the pocket of his overcoat and produced a pouch heavy with coins, stepping away from the blond before he could further indulge in the soft, woody scent lingering there, and approached the young man.
“You no longer need to carry the luggage. Thank you for your service.”
Alhaitham addressed him in a firm tone, his broad back the last thing the blond saw before looking down at his own with a fragile expression. Just a cadaverous, wounded, rough hand, his wrist still throbbing from that touch. For the first time, Kaveh felt embarrassed by his hands, having always resigned himself to seeing them as mere results of long, sleepless nights in pursuit of respectable work. But imagining that the other might have felt his palm in such a deplorable state made him shove them into his trouser pockets, nervously spinning the pocket watch stored there.
Seeing that Alhaitham had taken over the luggage the boy carried, the latter let out an exaggerated huff and smiled in thanks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. The two exchanged a few words Kaveh didn’t catch, and no matter how hard he tried, he would never know what was said over the din of the port.
The young man skipped away, leaving the two nobles alone. After a moment, Alhaitham turned to face him. With a slow blink, Kaveh noticed his shoulders relax just slightly, as if he feared what he might see upon turning his heels.
“Thank you for waiting, your grace.”
Kaveh flushed violently, feeling his chest cave in on itself with excruciating pain, though nothing but the uncontrollable blush spreading from his forehead to his shoulders was visible. Afraid of saying the wrong thing, he didn’t reply. He wasn’t in a state to refute him, to say that the moment he set foot on the departing ship he had ceased to carry the title of duke. Alhaitham didn’t seem bothered by being ignored, appearing satisfied nonetheless, and approached him at a torturous pace, making Kaveh swallow hard as he realized that the closer he came, the taller he seemed.
How Alhaitham had grown so much over the years, when he finally stood before his senior, Kaveh had to lift his chin to meet his gaze, struck by the unpleasant feeling that he would need to get used to this from now on.
“I saw you were looking for a carriage.” Alhaitham noted. “I can take care of that for you.”
Kaveh glanced around, as if a carriage might miraculously appear, any one would do, truly. But it was a luxury only nobles could afford, and spotting even one there was difficult. Exasperated, and painfully aware that his money was running out, he nodded, staring at his trembling hands as he grabbed the straps of his luggage.
Alhaitham exhaled audibly, remaining silent and facing his former senior while respecting his personal space, until he took a step that sent a spasm through Kaveh. This time, Alhaitham didn’t retreat. Instead, he lifted his arm slowly, treating the blond like someone made of glass, who might shatter with a single misstep. With his large palm extended toward him, he parted his full lips.
“Kaveh.” His deep, drawn-out voice called him in a demanding tone. The older man’s carmine eyes lifted from that asking hand to meet the other’s gaze fixed on his skin. “Let me carry them.”
“I can handle it, your grace.”
Those were the first words he had directed at his "no-longer-small" junior. Alhaitham blinked, his eyes threatening to widen. His typically impassive expression wavered, revealing a glimmer of profoundly nostalgic tenderness in his irises. As if witnessing a scene that rarely occurred, Kaveh etched that endearing image into his mind, to revisit whenever he was alone and lost in thought away from work.
“I insist.”
Before the other could protest through nervous stammering, Alhaitham leaned in threateningly and relieved him of the entire weight that had been further aggravating his calluses.
“Your hands are already hurt enough to be walking around with this.”
Damn it… he cursed internally, frustrated at having his suspicions confirmed. He tucked his now-free hands back into his pockets, blushing excessively.
“It’s not my fault I need these things for my work.”
Kaveh’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth, watching silence wash over them like a cold shower as they stared at each other. He began formulating a thousand apologies for the rudeness, but Alhaitham’s expression softened into a smile—that beautiful fissure blooming like a flower between the curve of his lips and his cheek. The most sought-after and stoic duke of Sumeru was smiling. Smiling at Kaveh.
What was he thinking? That man was still Alhaitham—his first and last junior.
“Of course, as you wish, your grace.” he replied, his tone faintly mocking.
Kaveh lost the chance to complain as he watched Alhaitham move away and head down a path behind him. The blond followed, having little choice now that all his belongings were in Alhaitham’s hands, who showed no change in expression whatsoever, completely unbothered by the weight.
“Weren’t we going to look for a carriage?”
“You're right.”
Kaveh rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing behind him toward what seemed the likely direction of a carriage stand, judging by what the young man had implied earlier.
“Then why are we going this way?”
“We’ll be using my carriage, which is right there, obviously.” he replied, as if explaining common sense to an ignoramus. “I thought I’d been clear from the start.”
The other scowled, rolling his eyes while Alhaitham wasn’t looking.
They walked through the streets within the port, leaving the dock and passing the Djafar Tavern in complete silence. Trying to ignore the tense atmosphere trailing behind them, Kaveh witnessed firsthand the number of looks and whispers Alhaitham’s presence drew, even in a place considered outside noble paradigms. Now farther from the quay, a cluster of high-society citizens lingered nearby. Head lowered, Kaveh quickened his pace, nearly sticking to Alhaitham as he matched his stride. The duke moved resolutely toward his destination, seemingly oblivious to the shocked and displeased voices, merely sidestepping foreigners burdened with luggage and offering brief greetings to lesser-known nobles.
A stark contrast to the blond, who found himself feeling uncomfortably reminiscent of Fontaine. His habit of chewing on his lips kicked in, a warped tic he had developed during his stay there, under relentless psychological pressure and the guilt of the internal mourning over the fight and separation that consumed him whenever he allowed himself to feel.
He gnawed compulsively at his dry lips, his eyes unfocusing as the voices grew clearer and multiplied. He barely noticed the sharp sting that followed, a metallic taste coating his tongue. Kaveh was just about to raise both hands to his head on reflex when Alhaitham’s voice cut through everything with its clear timbre.
“We’re almost there.”
The older man quickly pulled himself together, murmuring a vague acknowledgment. He looked past Alhaitham’s broad shoulders and spotted the carriage parked not far away, a coachman holding the reins of two black horses. Only one more tense stretch lay between the two old friends.
Yet no chaotic chorus erupted this time. The blond watched as Alhaitham handed the luggage to the liveried servant, then opened the carriage door for him, inviting him to step inside. Kaveh immediately grew shy at the decorum, this brand of chivalry he had never dared dream of enjoying as a debt-ridden, ordinary man. He stepped forward, gripping the doorframe to gain leverage, but Alhaitham quickly took hold of it with his free hand, steadying it just enough to help him climb in. Too embarrassed to hesitate, Kaveh accepted with a crooked smile and took an empty seat. The younger man closed the door, and Kaveh saw him lower his head slightly before, after a slow movement of his hand to his pockets and an absent expression, stepping away reluctantly to speak with his servant. After a brief exchange, he joined the blond inside the vehicle, entering from the opposite side.
Alhaitham settled into the seat across from him, his cane braced between his interlaced hands and his feet, and Kaveh couldn’t help but notice his immaculate posture even seated. With a crisp snap of the reins against leather, amid the horses’ neighs and hooves, the carriage immediately set into motion.
Immersed in that silence, Kaveh couldn’t find peace, constantly retreating to the blurred scenery beyond the narrow window gap. His fatigued fingers caught in the small wine-red curtain, pulling it aside just enough to see better.
“You look different.”
Kaveh blinked, unsure he’d heard correctly. He thought Alhaitham was commenting on his simple clothes, revealing a snobbish streak common among nobles. But glancing sideways, he followed the line of those petroleum-blue eyes and realized they were fixed above his forehead. Understanding dawned, and he offered his best smile, replying while still looking outside.
“I went through a lot to end up like this.” Realizing his lack of decorum, he straightened in his seat and looked at him with a firmness that wasn’t entirely secure, masking it by folding his legs and hiding his clasped hands atop his thighs. “I look odd with this cut, don’t I? I’m terribly out of fash-”
“No.” Alhaitham interrupted, exhaling in denial with a slight shake of his head. “It suits you.”
“Really? That’s… that’s good, then.” The blond softened his fingers in palpable nervousness, glancing around to hide his childish shyness.
They both cleared their throats and looked away, the tense silence giving way to an awkward one. Instinctively, Kaveh raised a hand to the back of his neck, feeling the curled ends of his hair tangle between his fingers.
“Your hand.” Alhaitham spoke again, this time explicitly indicating it with a quick glance.
Kaveh exposed them lightly, mentally grateful for the break in the cutting silence and hoping the younger man wouldn’t notice the sweat between his fingers, or how thin and cadaverous they looked. He needn’t have worried; Alhaitham returned his gaze to his face, apparently uninterested in their pitiful appearance.
“Yeah, it’s just one of the prices of being an architect. Nothing serious.”
“Do you apply anything to them?”
Kaveh pressed his lips into a line, recalling moments of desperation when his palms were nearly raw as he rushed into the first open shop he could find.
“I usually use a moisturizer from a perfumery in Fontaine, but I forgot to buy an extra before coming back. For now, I’m without one, and I won’t find anything as good as that here.”
Alhaitham shifted, straightening against the cushioned seat as he turned to face the window. His ever-unperturbed expression twisted subtly as he mulled it over.
“I have a gel at home… it’s not a moisturizer, but it’s efficient enough for treatment.” he said at last, clearly unaware of the unrestrained reaction he caused in his senior.
Kaveh, visibly softened, felt comfortable enough to cross his arms at the duke’s audacity.
“Your Grace, that’s a very irresponsible invitation from you.”
The younger man lifted his piercing gaze to him, blinking slowly as if chewing over the blond’s words in his own time before replying. Alhaitham slid his fingers down the shaft of his cane to its base and leaned into it, fist clenched against the wood, his forehead resting where his hands had been moments before.
“Please elaborate.”
“You know very well I’m not a duke, just an ordinary architect.” Kaveh shrugged, lifting his left hand. “How can you be so sure I’m still the same Kaveh from twelve years ago who always indulged your spoiled requests?”
Alhaitham considered this time, impressed. The blond expected an elaborate answer grounded in pure logic, as Alhaitham always liked to provide.
“I just know.” he replied, tightening his grip on the cane.
Kaveh was caught off guard by the short, wholly unpredictable response, realizing that, in truth, it was Alhaitham who had changed completely between the two of them.